


And now I see

by ArbitraryRambunctious (SheepOutTetradecagon)



Series: And now I see [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Development, Drunk characters, Fluff and Angst, I'm sorry for the Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, jj is the wingman, sort of, you can fight me on this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8742223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheepOutTetradecagon/pseuds/ArbitraryRambunctious
Summary: There are two kinds of people in the world. The insufferable kind and the tolerable kind. Phichit Chulanont is neither.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In which there is way too little Seungchuchu in this fandom and I'm suffering. (Thus this contribution, lmao)

It is cold outside, making the young male pull his jacket tighter around himself as he walks down the slightly crowded street. Cars are passing, making the dirty layer of snow scatter around their tires. There is a constant chatter filling the crisp air, something which the young man tries to block out the best he can. He sighs as a particularly giggly group of girls pass him, shooting him looks as if he cannot see how they are obviously checking him out. It annoys him, but he pretends that they are not there. It is not like it will lead to anything if he actually confronts them about it. There is a high chance that they would just get even more annoying if he actually gave them attention, and he doesn’t need that right now.

His name is Seung-Gil Lee. 20 years old, from Korea. Like so many others, he did not make it to the grand-prix final. It hurts, but he has long since made peace with the fact, and started to work towards other goals. Which is why he is currently walking down a snow covered street, his skates safely tucked into a bag slung over his shoulder.

He is late when he reaches the rink, his coach giving him a scolding. He zones out, having heard it all before. He isn’t the best with keeping track of time, too caught up in his own mind to really notice the world around him. It is tiring, always having to listen to his coach complain or people relentlessly running their mouths, be it in conversations with him or others. He is not going to pretend; people are hard to deal with, and he doesn’t feel like trying anymore. There’s a reason he is in men’s single and not pair skating. What he does is purely for himself, and if he is a bit lonely, that’s okay.

He has laced up his skates and is ready to enter the rink before his trainer is done with her tirade, brushing past her, already in full focus mode. She is shouting his name again, but he ignores her and lets himself glide a few meters. It feels satisfying, the ice nice and solid underneath him. Skating, as opposed to people, is fairly easy. Not in the sense that he is the best skater there is, but at least the ice doesn’t require him to read and understand a complex set of feelings.

However, even skating is hard sometimes. It hasn’t been quite the same ever since the Grand-Prix series. His growth in the technical department has stagnated a bit, and he still doesn’t put too much into the presentation. His cold exterior has worked well so far, but for every fall he takes, he can feel the pressure to take a different approach grow bigger. God knows his coach has been pushing for it, and he has ignored several whispered snickers about his emotionless expression as he works. It has long since stopped bothering him, but he can’t help but feel a twinge of insecurity as he watches other skaters passionately stumble through their programmes. The younger ones are still not on par with him, their movements not quite certain, their jumps a little wobbly in the landings. What they do seem to excel in is making the audience go wild, taking them with them into their story. Seung-Gil does not follow their example. He places fourth in the nationals.

* * *

He tries not to feel to down about it when the season ends, and he is standing there without anything but a single medal. It is not like his career is over, and he has the entire summer to improve his skills. Maybe he can get ahead if he just nails the jumps he’s been missing lately.

It is with a grimace that he receives the verdict. He is sitting with his coach by a table lit by a single candle. They’re in a local restaurant, having a small meal in between training. At first, Seung-Gil thought that was it, but now she is standing before him, delivering the plans for the future; his future.

“We will leave next week. I have arranged everything, so you’ll just need to pack. The first meeting will be in Beijing.”

She says more, but Seung-Gil has already escaped into his own personal hell of overthinking by then. He had been planning on spending his summer on skating, but not outside Korea. Travelling meant losing a lot of precious time on planes and public transport (places where people are often even more insufferable than usual). Also, it would mean spending even more time away from his dog. Honestly, he was starting to feel a bit guilty. They are hardly together anymore. Sadly, when his coach has decided something, it was difficult to make her change her mind.

“Seung-Gil!” He looks up, blinking. His coach’s cheeks are slightly red, probably from anger. He averts his eyes, letting his gaze drift to his fidgeting hands.

“Honestly, what am I going to do with you? This just proves how much you’re in the need of this.”

“Is this really necessary?” he mutters, not trying to hide his discontent feelings. His coach just huffs. He is not going to win this one, so he picks up his chopsticks and starts to eat his food. His coach doesn’t relent for that reason though.

“If you want to have any chance at Pyeongchang, you cannot skate like you did this season. I expect you to try to make some friends. You’ve already met several of the others so it shouldn’t be too hard. Who knows, maybe they can help you with your weaknesses as you do certaintly not listen when I try to help you.” Seung-Gil just nods, although he has already made up his mind about the matter.

* * *

Beijing is uncomfortably full of people. They are everywhere, their faces a blur as they hurry past him. Seung-Gil can feel his chest constrict, feeling unsettled by the buzzing masses around him. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore the noise, escaping into his safe house in his mind. He tries to think of lazy days spent with his dog, or of his mother’s food, but the thing about huge crowds is that they’re nearly impossible to block out.

His coach seems to have noticed his moment of internal panic as she pulls him away from the people and shoves him into a taxi. It immediately becomes quieter, and Seung-Gil lets go of a breath, relaxing into the seat. His coach eyes him worriedly, but doesn’t say anything. She knows he is uneasy in big crowds, especially if people get into his personal space. They ride in silence, his coach watching the city fly past them outside the window, while Seung-Gil retreats into his mind again. His thoughts are on anything but the upcoming event. He already misses his hometown. He misses the calm scenery, and his family, not to mention his dog.

He is shaken out of his thoughts as the car comes to a rough stop, the seatbelt the only thing stopping him from flying through the front window. The facility they’re staying at isn’t very big, which is the point of it all. His coach had called it a bonding experience, Seung-Gil calls it a glorified summer camp. Cause that’s what it is. An event arranged as a cooperation between several coaches from around the world to bring professional skaters together to train. To learn from each other and to forge relations between each other. It’s a social hell that Seung-Gil would preferably have avoided. He wonders whose idea it all was, mostly so he can find and strangle the person in question. He doesn’t have the time to think about murder plans before he is ushered into the common area of the building. The Chinese coaches who are hosting this part of the event are trying to calm the group of people, one of them informing the skaters about the emergency exits. Seung-Gil half-heartedly pays attention knowing this might benefit him later, should something come up.

He notices that the majority of the skaters at the event are younger than him, the youngest ones probably being around fourteen. He glances over at his coach almost accusingly, but she is immersed in a conversation with one of the other Korean coaches. Seung-Gil has seen the other coach with one of the youngsters at the rink back home. They’re discussing rapidly in Korean, completely lost to their surroundings. Seung-Gil decides to catch up with her later and sets off to find his room.

Each event lasts one week, the total amount of events being 3. He hopes to every deity out there that he isn’t going to be stuck with a loud fourteen year old for the next three week, he doesn’t know what he will do if he is. What meets him when he opens the door to the room he has been assigned is both a relief but also a sight that makes Seung-Gil want to straight up run away. It’s not that he has anything against the guy, but Seung-Gil can already feel his hope of completely ignoring his roommate slip away.

Phichit Chulanont notices him before he has the chance to run anywhere. He looks up from his phone, a smile spreading over his face.

“Hey, you’re here too?”

Seung-Gil catches himself before he blurts out a snarky comment about obviously being there since he is more or less standing in front of the boy. Instead he nods, settling down on the empty bunk. The bed is hard, and it looks like it might collapse in on itself at any given moment. He reluctantly makes himself comfortable in the small space, glad that he isn’t all that tall.

“I think this will be nice. I was a bit worried for a moment, there sure are a lot of kids here. I knew Guang-Hong would be here, but he isn’t staying here since he can get to the rink pretty easily without having to. I guess they lumped us together since we’re the same age.” A thing about Phichit Chulanont. He rarely goes long without smiling. The grin he is currently flashing at Seung-Gil is the kind that probably has girls screaming and boys wanting to be best bros with him. Seung-Gil nods, hoping the small talk will end soon. There is approximately half an hour until dinner, 3 until they’re heading off to the rink, (He did take a look at the schedule before he got there), unless he tries to go to sleep or go somewhere else, there is a huge chance that Phichit won’t shut his mouth.

“I actually hadn’t planned on coming, but Ciao Ciao thought it might be beneficial for me,” he says, more to himself than to Seung-Gil who has long since shifted his focus elsewhere. This however, does catch his attention. He looks up at the other skater, confused as to why a social butterfly like Phichit wouldn’t want to participate in an event such as this. He lowkey wants to ask him about it.

“Who’s Ciao Ciao?” is what comes out of his stupid mouth instead. He internally chides himself for it, as it probably made him sound dumb. To his relief Phichit just laughs. It’s a pure sound. Happy and unconditionally giving, as if he wants to spread the happiness he feels to the rest of the world. Seung-Gil can feel a warm feeling in his chest. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he likes the sound.

“It’s the nickname I use for my coach. Celestino Cialdini, I don’t know if you have heard about him. But, it is two C’s, and a lot shorter. Also it sounds cute.”

“Cute?”

“Yeah. Don’t you give cute nicknames to people you like?”

“Not really,” he murmurs. The truth is he has never given it any thought before. It isn’t like it would save him that much time, neither has he got anyone he feels close enough to be that affectionate with. Maybe he could come up with one for his dog. That would count, wouldn’t it?

Phichit’s phone buzzes where it lays beside him on his bed. As if on instinct the boy’s hand shoots out and snatches it up. He unlocks it with swift gestures to the screen, eyes scanning the device for whatever information it must have for him. He slumps with a whine.

“Lucky bastards. I wish I could go to Japan, too.” He turns his phone for Seung-Gil to see, even if he didn’t ask for it. The screen shows a picture of Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki in front of a shrine. Viktor is kissing the top of Yuuri’s head, one eye closed in a wink, while the younger male smiles shyly at the camera. He can vaguely remember them being pretty close during the Grand-Prix series, but most of all he remembers the random hug he received as he was strolling down the hallway. It had really taken him by surprise.

Phichit turns his phone back to himself and starts to type something, before he stops, glancing up at Seung-Gil again. His eyes light up, and Seung-Gil can feel a bad idea taking form. He wonders if he’ll have the time to escape somewhere. No such luck.

“We should take a picture together!” he exclaims. He crosses the room and slumps down on top of Seung-Gil’s bed. He finds the camera application on his phone quickly, holding the phone out in front of them before snapping a photo. Seung-Gil doesn’t have the time to protest. 

“Is this okay? Can I post it?” Phichit asks, eyes pleading. Seung-Gil shifts uncomfortably. He isn’t one for posting a lot of photos of himself, the fewer pictures of him on the internet the better. He wouldn’t know how to deal with it if his pictures somehow ended up being used for something bad, and he isn’t exactly good with words, so he wouldn’t know what to write in the captions anyways. Phichit however, is the closest thing you come to a minor god of social media. One that is currently itching to share their picture with the world.

“Is there any way you’re going to listen if I say no?” he replies, not in the mood to make an argument out of it. 

“I’d respect it if you didn’t want me to, but I figured I ask you at least. Most people are okay with it, but you don’t seem to be very active on social media.” Seung-Gil has to admit he is a bit surprised by Phichit’s answer. He always assumed the boy shamelessly took pictures without permission. Actually, that might be true on some level. He doubts that the various pictures of Yuuri and Viktor were all approved before they were released onto the internet (or maybe he has misread Yuuri Katsuki completely. That is also a possibility, albeit not as likely as the other). He wonders what made Phichit ask him first.

“You can post it if you like, I don’t really care,” Seung-Gil says. It’s worth the minor inconvenience when Phichit lights up as if he just received a gift. He enthusiastically types out a caption and adds the hashtags he wants before pressing post. Seung-Gil jumps slightly as his phone buzzes, notifying him that someone has tagged him in a picture. He rarely uses his Instagram, so at first he doesn’t understand, he squints when he sees the picture. It looks good enough, his face stuck in its normal neutral expression. What catches his eye is the text underneath it.

 

♥ 34 likes

**Phichit+chu** With @seung-gillee at training camp, can’t wait to work with this cutie! #Beijing #China

 

Seung-Gil tries to wrap his mind around it all, especially since he never agreed to working with Phichit. He double taps the photo just to be nice, surprised when the heart tally jumps from 34 to 107. Phichit sure has a lot of devoted followers, the picture haven’t even been out for a solid minute. He reads the caption again, feeling confused. Is ‘cutie’ slang for something? Is it what teens normally call each other? He wants to confront him about it, scared that it might mean what he thinks it does, but he doesn’t want to seem like he doesn’t understand internet talk, even if it is true. He settles for a safer option.

“I didn’t know you knew my instagram user. Very few do, or at least I haven’t told many.”

It is Phichit’s turn to seem confused. He gapes slightly, pulling up the familiar page. It has a stunning total of three picture. One of him and his dog, one of him skating (uploaded by his coach, mind), and one of his hometown. 

“Seung-Gil, you do realize you have more than 4000 followers? And of course I know your Instagram, I know the social media accounts of all the big skaters.”

“Stalker,” he mutters, feeling amused. Phichit grins at him.

“Was that a smile? You should smile more often, it suits you.”

Seung-Gil can’t quite keep his face neutral, although for anyone who wasn’t looking for it the slight quirk of his lips wouldn’t be visible. It is rare for people to bring out this side of him, but somehow, Phichit’s gentle carefree personality does. He tells himself that maybe it won’t be that bad sharing a room with the other for a week. It could definitely have been worse.

* * *

He gets to feel just how much worse it could have been when he enters the indoor rink the next day. They have divided the group of roughly 30 skaters into three groups based on age and competence. Unfortunately for him, that means he is stuck in the same group as a person he had hoped not to see again after the Grand Prix series. He knows that his wish is silly, and that encounters are unavoidable since they both compete on the same level, but he had at least hoped they wouldn’t be reunited so quickly. 

Jean-Jacques Leroy is a loud idiot in many ways, and for the most part that's why Seung-Gil dislikes him, but a small part of him can't help but hate him for his skills. He knows it is irrational, since the younger man has probably worked really hard. However, it's just the way everything comes so easy for him. How the audience will get dragged into his little world when he skates. How he's oozing of charisma and charm. It's despicable more than anything, because Seung-Gil will never be able to be like that. In the end, it's actually himself he hates.

His coach would ask him to take the opportunity to learn from him while they're both there, but he knows from the moment JJ sets foot on the ice that it won't happen. 

It's not like he is trying to be an ass, but it became evident rather quickly that the so called King is on his list of aversions, right up there with vegetables, and that's more or less how he ends up doing rounds around the rink on his own. The others are doing as they're told and work in small groups, giving encouragement and criticism as if they were school children commenting on a group project. Seung-Gil isn't interested in it whatsoever. It is a 87% chance that the comments he'll receive will be related to his expressionless face and passionless performance. He doesn't need to hear it from another person.

He is in the middle of a jump when he hears a camera shutter go off, causing him to touch down with his hand as he lands. He barely manages to keep himself from falling, pushing himself up into a standing position. When he turns around, Phichit is standing there, looking apologetic.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, but you look really captivating when you skate, so I couldn't resist.” 

Seung-Gil comes to a stop, trying to process the words. He's been told a lot about his skating, both good and bad, but that's the first time anyone has used that specific word. He files it into his mind to look up later, not entirely sure if it means what he thinks it does. 

“Why are you here?” The moment the sentence is out of his mouth Seung-Gil realises just how rude it sounds. He internally scolds himself, for once actually interested in the possibility of a friendship. He's surprised Phichit is still interested in him. He has been unintentionally cold and distant towards him several times, not quite able to let his guard down around people.

“Huh?” Phichit just looks up at him with confused eyes, making Seung-Gil sigh. 

“Aren’t you supposed to do the group thing?”

“Aren’t you too?”

Seung-Gil shrugs. He thought it was obvious why he didn’t want to do the bonding exercises, but that doesn’t mean he wants the others to follow his example. He knows his trainer will get cross with him for skipping, so no need for the others to give her another reason to scold him.

“You should go back,” Seung-Gil hisses quietly, not wanting to draw attention. 

“I will if you come with,” Phichit says stubbornly. He crosses his arms over his chest and refuses to move. Seung-Gil does a half-hearted attempt at pushing him away, but the shorter skater plants his toe pick into the ice and manages to get around Seung-Gil, skating backwards smugly. He smirks at Seung-Gil as if he’s playing some sort of game, then snaps a picture of him with his phone.

Seung-Gil stands there dumbstruck, not sure what to think of it. The coaches haven’t come back from checking up on the younger ones who were taken to somewhere else to do exercises off ice. In other words, no one can stop him from murdering Phichit (or at least make him stop taking embarrassing pictures of him). Seung-Gil sets after the other boy who has still not turned around, but is eyeing Seung-Gil happily as he continues to make his way towards the other skaters.

They are awkwardly playing some sort of getting-to-know-each-other-game, seemingly unaware or not caring about the two skaters on the other side of the rink.  _ Good,  _ Seung-Gil thinks to himself, feeling rather ridiculous as he skates after with Phichit. He has his phone out again and is repeatedly taking pictures of Seung-Gil. He cringes as he hears the shutter go off in quick succession. He doesn't want to think about how dumb he probably looks in the pictures.

“It's funny how they all say you're no fun, I'm enjoying myself quite a lot,” Phichit teases, winking at him. It makes Seung-Gil’s insides twist uncomfortably for no reason. He reaches out, finally close enough to snatch the phone out of Phichit’s hands. Phichit lets him.

He presses the home button, ready to delete whatever horrendous pictures Phichit might have gotten of him. That's about as far as he gets, the phone mockingly demanding a passcode. He takes a deep breath, managing to maintain his calm exterior. He's not used to people joking with him so he isn't sure how he feels about it. 

A hand lands on his shoulder, making him jump slightly. Phichit is leaning over him, watching him half heartedly try a passcode without success. He giggles, the sound echoing in the large hall, pure and free of malicious intent. It calms Seung-Gil down a bit. It's not like he thinks Phichit would have posted ugly pictures of him without his consent but his paranoia can't help but ask what if?

“I'll let you delete them when we get back to our dorm if you join me with the others okay?”

Seung-Gil reluctantly hands the phone back. 

In the end he doesn’t manage to get Phichit to delete half of the pictures he would have loved to see obliterated from the face of the earth. Mostly because Phichit is more or less hanging off him, begging him to let him keep them.  He might look like he’s a heartless bastard, but even his conscience has a problem with saying no to the Thai skater’s pleading eyes. He wonders when he became so incapable to say no. He had no problem brushing off Sara Crispino when she tried to rope him into going out with her and the others. 

It becomes a bit of a normal occurrence with them. Phichit snapping pictures of them around the clock, updating his instagram feed at least ten times a day. Sometimes together with the other skaters as well. 

He still doesn’t take too much of what the others say to heart and tries to work alone as much as possible. They are not pair skaters, he doesn’t see the value in learning how to work with the other’s on ice. His coach can complain all she wants. He is the same, and he has no intention to change in any way at the moment. Still, he does listen when Phichit tells him about what he imagines as he skates and what motivates him. For Seung-Gil doing well have been more than enough, but it’s interesting to hear about the other’s inspirations. Phichit makes him promise to watch  _ “ _ The king and the skater” with him someday. 

* * *

In the end, Phichit is the only friend he actually makes, but when his coach told him to make friends he didn’t really plan on listening so he guesses it’s better than expected. Maybe it’s not too bad, seeing as it gives him something to occupy himself with. Seung-Gil never thought he'd voluntarily go anywhere he didn't have to go. It’s the last day of the China camp, and after half a day of practice, the coaches let them off to spend their remaining time to go sightseeing. When he first had arrived Seung-Gil had planned on using the free time to rest up before they went to America. However, he found that he didn't mind tagging along with Phichit to see the city. That was, he didn't mind until Phichit got them lost.

“I know exactly where we are don't worry,” Phichit mutters, trying to make sense of the street signs. Neither of them knows how to read mandarin, and it's been over an hour since they last saw any of the other skaters. At first, they had kept to the big streets, but at some point Phichit had strayed into various side streets until neither of them knew where they were. It would have been fine if any of them could remember the name of the place they were staying at, but stupid as they both were, neither had paid any mind to it.

Seung-Gil pull his jacket tighter around himself, the air starting to get a little bit too cold for his liking with the sun hanging low in the horizon. He lets his eyes drift to Phichit who is trying to get ahold of his coach without any luck.

He is wearing a thick hoodie and a cap, making him look like one of those skater boys in American movies. He has his face mask hanging around his neck, even though the air quality isn't exactly anything to brag about.

“Dammit Ciao Ciao, answer the phone,” Phichit mutters. His fingers are restlessly tapping on the screen of his phone. He turns to Seung-Gil, eyes hopeful. 

“Do you think your coach would respond if we called her instead?”

Seung-Gil cringes internally. Knowing his coach he would get a scolding for running off in a city he doesn't know and having to get her to help him because he's lost. She'd probably chalk it up to him being distant and tell him to keep a closer mind on his surroundings. Still, the fact that they are lost isn't going to change unless they get some help, or at least there's a bigger chance of them getting more list of they start to wander around. Reluctantly he shoves his hand into his pocket to dig out his phone. However, he finds nothing. With a sigh he realises he left it back at the hotel.

“I don't have it,” he mutters.

“You what?” Phichit’s eyes grow comically big, something that might have been amusing if they weren't lost in one of the biggest cities in the world.

“My phone,” he says, looking guiltily at the ground. “I left it at the hotel.”

“What? Seung-Gil Lee, how can you even leave without it? You don’t simply forget your phone.” Seung-Gil flinches as Phichit’s hands hits his shoulders, the boy leaning into his personal space incredulously. Seung-Gil gently pries the hands off him, shoving Phichit away with a huff.

“I don’t use my phone that much. It’s not unusual for me to leave it behind. It’s not like I planned on getting lost,” Seung-Gil says, noticing his voice increasing in volume. He has to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down, not sure why he is reacting so strongly. He isn’t good at taking criticism of any kind, but this was just an innocent remark. Phichit’s eyes grows softer, as if realizing he might have insulted Seung-Gil.

“I’m sorry,” he says, taking a step away. “I know not everyone is addicted to their phones as me. It’s a huge part of my life to be honest. I so rarely get to meet all the amazing people who’s important to me, so SNS is pretty much the only way for us to stay connected. I guess it’s not that for everyone.” 

They stand there awkwardly for a moment, Seung-Gil not sure how to react. Phichit perks up a bit, taking Seung-Gil’s hand in his. His eyes are glinting excitedly as he pulls him along, down into another side street.

“What are you-”

“Ciao Ciao will call me back when he sees I tried to reach him. There’s no reason for us to stick around here.You only live once right? What does it matter if we get a little lost? Let’s go explore some more!”

Seung-Gil barely has the time to catch up with Phichit’s tempo before the other boy changes direction again. The tall buildings are looming over them, their lights bright in the crisp night air. It isn’t too different from home, but the lights blurring as they pass ahead of him is enough to make him dizzy. Phichit has slowed down a bit, but is still keeping an upbeat tempo, forcing Seung-Gil to pay attention to where he places his feet in order not to fall. 

Phichit’s hand feels warm in his, Seung-Gil’s fingers almost constantly cold for some reason. He adjusts his grip so that it isn’t just Phichit dragging him along by hand, but the two of them holding onto each other’s hands. It’s more comfortable that way he tells himself. Phichit turns and smiles back at him. Those bright eyes are enough to make Seung-Gil’s stomach churn with nervousness. It’s quite off putting but at the same time exhilarating as few things are able to make him feel like this. 

They end up staying out until well past 2AM before “Ciao Ciao” notices that Phichit has called him, something which leads to both of their coaches berating them as if they were a pair of foolish 15 year olds. For some reason though, Seung-Gil doesn’t feel like he regrets it, even if his coach sends him a disappointed look as she tells him goodnight. 

Phichit and Seung-Gil doesn’t talk much after their coaches have left. Seung-Gil too busy trying to catch some sleep and Phichit on his phone, undoubtedly posting the veritable shit ton of pictures he took of them while they were out.

  
When Seung-Gil wakes up the next morning his phone is flooded with notifications. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long guys, but I've been having a hard time knowing how to proceed with this. I've made the decision to split it up, and I will hopefully get the last part up faster than this *sweats nervously*.

The next two week of the camp passes in a blur. Seung-Gil finds that working together with Phichit and the others is actually helping him a little bit with the presentation part of his skating. To his surprise even insufferable JJ manages to pull something useful out of that huge head of his, offering Seung-Gil some advice during their stay in the US. It still doesn’t mean that Seung-Gil particularly likes the guy or anything, but at least he can stand to be in the same room as him, and he guesses that’s sort of an improvement. It’s not like he doesn’t find JJ interesting; in fact, he enjoys the challenge competing against him gives. It’s just that he is one of those people you can’t be in a room with for more than 20 minutes at the time before you want to bite their head off.

When they end their training session, his feet are sore with blisters, making Seung-Gil wince as he pulls off the skates. The training regimen if harder than he had initially expected when he first heard about the camp, and he is really starting to feel it in his muscles. They’re aching and stiff as he forces his tired body into the shower, using unnecessarily long time to get clean, reluctant to leave the warm spray of water. Phichit is not amused when he finally returns, almost desperately stumbling into the bathroom to take a shower as well. Seung-Gil just smiles to himself and sits himself down on one of the bunks in their shared room.

Usually, the grown ups will encourage them to go explore the city in their free time, more than happy to recommend sights to see and good places to shop. However, he hasn’t felt this tired in a long while, and his feet hurt to much for him to want to go anywhere. He flops onto his back, closing his eyes. 

Of course, he’s right on the verge of falling asleep when he is woken up by Phichit stumbling back into their room. He barely has time to duck as the boy shakes his head like a dog, making excess water fly everywhere. As cute as it is, Seung-Gil does not appreciate getting wet again. Phichit slumps down on Seung-Gil’s bed, stretching his arms above his head, his bones making cracking sounds. Seung-Gil grimaces, but doesn’t push him off.

“Are you headed out?” Seung-Gil asks. He kinda feels like going back to sleep, but he knows that won’t happen as long as Phichit is there with him, the young skater almost always full of energy. Energy that doesn’t go away if he’s left to his own devices.

“I’m not sure, you?”

Seung-Gil shakes his head. He yawns, letting himself lie down again. Phichit follows his example and lets himself fall onto his back, flopping across Seung-Gil’s stomach, knocking the air out of him for a second. He grumbles, but still doesn’t move to make the other go away. In the week they have lived together, Seung-Gil has more or less learned to accept it when Phichit invades his personal space, as it is more or less unavoidable. 

He’s just about to go to try sleeping again when Phichit twists on top of him, facing him with an eager grin. He raises an eyebrow skeptically, not sure if he wants to know what crazy idea might have struck his friend.  _ Friend _ . It sounds a bit strange in his head, but it also makes him feel warm inside. He was never the guy with the most friends, neither back at home or within the figure skating world. He didn’t think he needed any.  How wrong he was.

“You still haven’t fulfilled your promise to me,” Phichit grins. His hair is still dripping, leaving wet spots on Seung-Gil’s t-shirt. He must have looked as confused as he feels as Phichit elaborates with small laugh.

“You promised we’d watch “The king and the skater” together sometime, remember? If we’re not headed out anyway, how about it?”

“Do we even have anything to watch it on?” Seung-Gil mutters. He can vaguely remember seeing a screen in the common area of the camp, but he doesn’t really feel like turning their movie night into something accessible for every skater at the camp. Phichit jumps up from the bed and runs over to where his bag is resting in the corner. He shuffles through the contents until he finds what he wants. A black laptop and a DVD-disc cover. 

“I always bring it with me,” he explains. “It’s such an inspiration for me, so whenever I feel down I like to sit down and watch it. It’s really a moving story. In other words, you should totally watch it with me.”

Seung-Gil sighs in defeat, a small smile spreading across his normally straight features. Looks like his plans for catching some sleep will have to wait. Phichit grins as he makes himself comfortable beside Seung-Gil, snuggling up in the covers he retrieved from the other bed. He places the laptop on their laps and clicks himself through the various windows on the screen until it goes black and the speakers starts to play the opening theme.

The movie has barely started before Phichit is whispering softly into Seung-Gil’s shoulder where he has found a place to comfortably rest his head. Seung-Gil is not able to keep a soft smile from his face as the other boy excitedly tells him random facts about the movie, the actors and the music as it progresses. It’s a safe feeling, being cuddled up after a long day of practice, relaxing with some good entertainment. Cause it is actually good, Seung-Gil has to admit that.

* * *

Their last week is in France, which when Seung-Gil looks back at it is kinda ironic. They’re in Toulouse, a city which is drastically different from Seung-Gil’s hometown. The old brick buildings never seem to end, and the people conversing rapidly in a tongue he doesn’t understand just makes him long for his home even more. He usually don’t get homesick easy, but for some reason he feels like he can’t wait to get back to South-Korea.

He remains silent for most of the practice, pretending not to notice the worried glances Phichit sends his way when he thinks Seung-Gil isn’t looking. They’re working on completing the short program they were given the task of choreographing at the beginning of the camp. It is only a few days until the last day when they will hold a small informal competition. 

Seung-Gil has more or less completed his programme. It isn’t even close to what he would consider his standard for a real competition, but he doesn’t really feel like putting in too much effort. It is more of a test subject, with him just starting to try to incorporate some new elements into his style. He's been studying the other skaters working on interpretation for the past two weeks and although it doesn't come as natural to him as to them, he is beginning to put more emotion into his skating. 

That is on a good day at least. Right now he is just pushing himself to jump higher and take on jumps of higher difficulty. It is more or less the way he normally would practice before the camp. Old habits die hard. Especially if they're of a destructive nature.

He received a call from his parents earlier that morning that his dog hasn't been feeling too well lately, and that the vet suspected it might be digestion problems. Nothing grave, but it is still enough to worry him and let every small thing get to him. Like the warm water being used up in the showers that morning or some kid running into him in the hallway. He picks himself up after another fall. He has lost count of how many he has taken today, too distracted to really care. The others stares after him when he eventually has to leave the ice early after a particularly hard fall. His ankle feels a bit bruised, but his face got the worst of it. His cheek is starting to swell, making it hard to talk. He winces as he finds a pack of ice and presses it to it.

It takes less than half a minute for his coach to appear beside him, obviously stressed, but to Seung-Gil’s relief not saying anything. He isn't sure whether he is relieved when he's told to take the rest of the day off.

Collapsing onto the bed feels great. He enjoys a dreamless sleep and doesn’t wake up before Phichit comes stumbling in through the door, his attire an odd mix of training gear and casual clothes. He drops his stuff onto his bed and walks over to open the drapes blocking out the sun. 

“Dinner is ready if you’re hungry,” he informs as he picks up his bag and disappears into the bathroom. Seung-Gil blinks, trying to let his eyes get used to the sharp light. It’s only a few minutes past five according to the digital clock on the wall. He sighs and sits up, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He wonders if he will be able to get away with going to dinner like this? Probably not, but he feels too lazy to change clothes. No one is going to notice anyway.

The door to the bathroom opens again, and Phichit comes out, dressed in an outfit that reflects his bubbly personality. He drops his bag by his bed and stops for a second to size up Seung-Gil. Looks like his plans of not changing clothes is doomed.

“JJ got friendly with some of the locals after practice. Everyone in the older group is invited to a party later tonight. You’re coming, right?”

Seung-Gil grimaces inwardly, but keeps his face straight as he mulls over his options. Of course he could just stay in the dorm, and get more sleep as he probably won’t have anything better to do now that Phichit is headed out. However, he doesn’t feel like leaving Phichit alone in a foreign country where he doesn’t know the language. Not because he doesn’t trust the guy to take care of himself, but simply because, well, his gut tells him not to. He settles for nodding vaguely.

“Great!” Phichit exclaims and grabs his hand, pulling him up from his position on the bed.

“You’ll need to wear something else though, that won’t fly. Didn’t you bring anything that’s not sport's clothes?”

“Not really,” Seung-Gil mutters. He has a pair of jeans, and a few rather neutral looking t-shirts, but that’s about it. Phichit eyes his bag, eyes in deep thought, then sizes up Seung-Gil again. He looks away, not able to meet those probing eyes. The height difference is obviously an obstacle when it comes to borrowing clothes. He is lowkey relieved.

Or maybe not. Phichit drops to his knees and starts to rifle through Seung-Gil’s bag at the foot of his bed. He let’s out an indignant squawk, trying to pry Phichit away from his belongings. It's not like he’s got anything to hide, but it still feels like an intrusion of personal space. Triumphantly, Phichit pulls out the pair of jeans Seung-Gil stuffed down at the bottom of his bag before he left home. He grabs them sulkily from the other boy, trying to convey his discontentment through a glare, which isn’t too different from his neutral expression.

Phichit seems to understand anyway, and looks sheepishly at Seung-Gil, smiling apologetically. 

“Sorry, that was a bit brash. I forget we've only been friends for a short time. I won’t pull anything like that again if it made you uncomfortable.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Seung-Gil murmurs, and picks up a clean t-shirt, bringing the clothes into the bathroom with him. He doesn’t take long to get ready, but it is still more than usual. Maybe it is because he is actually trying to look decent for once. Not that he considers his usual clothes bad, but fussing over your look takes too much time in Seung-Gil’s opinion. Phichit on the other hand seems content when he exits, bouncing over to him to sling his arm over Seung-Gil’s shoulder.

“I bet this will be lit.” Seung-Gil nods, and lets Phichit drag him off to dinner. Maybe it won’t be _that_ bad.

* * *

It’s not _that_ bad. It’s worse. The moment they enter the building, Seung-Gil feels like his ears are going to break. The sound of people chattering in addition to the music being tuned up to what he assumes must be max volume is enough to give him a headache on spot.  Phichit grins and drags Seung-Gil over to where the other skaters have gathered together with a group of what probably is some random locals JJ found on the street or something. He is talking rapidly in french with them, the group of locals listening intently to make sense of his accent.

Seung-Gil has to admit that even among the people in the group, he isn’t familiar with many of them. Phichit has already left his side to greet what Seung-Gil vaguely remembers to be one of the American skaters. His face is wearing a calm expression as he talks with Phichit, his english flowing easily. 

An arm lands around Seung-Gil’s shoulder, and he is suddenly surrounded by the stench of alcohol. He wrinkles his nose, trying to shrug JJ off him, but the younger boy just leans heavily on him, as if they're best friends. Which they're obviously not.

“I didn't think you would come. What did Phichit promise you?”

“Nothing,” Seung-Gil quips annoyed. “I'm just here to ensure he doesn't end up like you”.

“Cool and handsome you mean? I can see that being problematic for your fragile ice heart. Don't worry man, I'll be there for you when you need it.”

“More like drunk and annoying and I have no idea what you mean. Don't you have a girlfriend to bother?” Seung-Gil almost lets out a triumphant yell when he finally manages to pry JJ’s arms off him.

“You're such a stingy one. If anyone here needs a drink I think it's you, I'll go fetch you something.”

JJ drunkenly staggers away from him in the general direction of the bar before Seung-Gil has the chance to protest. For a moment he considers going after the guy to ensure he doesn't hurt himself, but he knows he saw JJ’s girlfriend somewhere and he is not really feeling like babysitting her asshole fiancé voluntarily. 

Which reminds him, he should probably find Phichit before he makes a fool out of himself. Of course, in the short time he was wrestling with JJ, Phichit and the American have gone off to somewhere. Seung-Gil scans the crowd, trying to find them, but they’re nowhere in sight. Not that it is easy to identify anyone with the flashing strobe lights are the only thing keeping the room from being pitch black. 

He vaguely regrets not taking JJ up on his offer of a drink, feeling far out of his comfort zone as he makes his way through the crowd of dancing bodies. Some are not able to walk straight, laughing loudly as they stumble into the other people in the room, barely keeping themselves from falling over. The air is suffocating with the heat of the probably hundreds of humans around him. They are jumping up and down dazedly while the speakers blare out some unrecognizable song, making the floor shake underneath him.

A petite girl tries to get him to dance with her, all while giggling and slurring her words, making the unfamiliar language even more incomprehensible. He can gradually feel his patience wearing thin. He should have just convinced Phichit to stay at the dorms with him. Maybe they could have watched more of his movies instead.

A loud whoop from the crowd is what catches his attention next. He squints, trying to see what is happening in the general direction of the sound. A group of people have gathered around someone, egging them on as they skillfully twists their body to the music. Seung-Gil swallows as he recognizes the boy. It’s the american boy Phichit was hanging out with. Iglesia or something. He doesn’t look anything close to calm and quiet anymore. 

To Seung-Gil’s great disappointment, Phichit was still nowhere to be seen. This does of course not stop him from walking straight up to the other skater, dragging him away from the dance floor, despite the angry shouts of the surrounding crowd. He is surprised to see that the boy doesn’t seem inebriated at all. His eyes still holds the same calm feeling, but not drunkenly so. He almost feel bad for shouting at him, but it is impossible to hear anything otherwise.

“Where’s Phichit,” Seung-Gil demanded coldly. The younger boy seemed unfazed by his cold stare, calmly leading Seung-Gil away from the denser part of the crowd, and over to a bench. They both sit down, Seung-Gil feeling a little bit relieved to get away from the most intense part of the party. He sighs, feeling awfully drained. 

“I think he found an old friend or something, or maybe just someone he could actually communicate with. I’m not entirely sure, he was already starting to get a bit tipsy when I lost sight of him.”

“And you didn’t follow him?” Seung-Gil leans his head exasperated against the wall behind him. Great.

“Phichit is fully capable of taking care of himself. I just assumed he wanted some time to catch up with his friend or whoever that was. Did he bring you here?” 

Seung-Gil nods. More than anything, he feels like going to sleep somewhere. Iglesia puts a hand on his shoulder, looking worriedly at him. 

“You don’t look too well, maybe we should get you back-”

“I’m finding Phichit,” Seung-Gil muttered. He doesn’t even know why he is so insistent in finding his friend anymore. It would have been much easier to just leave him. Iglesia and JJ is still there, he wouldn’t be alone. Iglesia looks at him with doubting eyes, but lets him go.

“I’d check his instagram feed. It might give you some pointers to his whereabouts.”

Seung-Gil nods. “Thanks.”

The feed is flooding with pictures, strangely enough of high quality, even though the owner is clearly drunk. It is hard to make out exactly where in the room he is, but Seung-Gil thinks he can see the bar in the background on some of the recent ones. It takes him a good ten minutes to reach said bar with constantly having to dodge people. Maybe he is a bit too protective of his personal space. In a place like this, that term means nothing.

In the end, it is Phichit who finds him. He is just about to give up when he is ambushed from behind. He will never admit to have uttered any embarrassing noises as it happened, no matter what Phichit says. 

The thai skater is nearly glowing with happiness, making his normal mood seem almost neutral in comparison. It is mildly terrifying.

“Where have you been?” Seung-Gil hisses, dragging Phichit away with him. Phichit stops for a moment, as if he didn’t realize Seung-Gil is standing right in front of him, then he tears up.

“OH MY GOD! I forgot you didn’t I?” Seung-Gil has to take a few steps backwards to avoid falling as the other flings himself at him. He hadn’t expected Phichit to be crying. He awkwardly pats Phichit’s back, hoping it will console him somewhat. Phichit’s arms around him is starting to feel suffocating. The hug is a lot firmer than Seung-Gil would’ve thought possible for a 165cm boy drunk off his ass. 

“I’m sorry,” Phichit mumbles into Seung-Gil’s shirt, head turning upwards giving Seung-Gil a view of those big brown eyes. The eyeliner is still intact somehow. He keeps himself from wiping away the tears that are trailing down Phichit’s cheeks. He probably won’t remember any of this later anyways. As if he can hear Seung-Gil’s thoughts, his mood shifts from sad to bubbly again within a second. He suddenly grabs Seung-Gil’s hand, taking him with him into the crowd again. 

“Where are we going?” Seung-Gil tries to yell, but with how loud everyone is he isn’t sure if Phichit can hear him. It is hard to keep hold of his hand so he doesn’t lose him again with people stumbling around everywhere, but somehow, he manages to hold on until the crowd thins a little. Phichit does an 180 degree turn and grins up at him.

“We should dance!” he exclaims, bounding forward to take Seung-Gil’s hands in his as if it is the best idea in the world. Seung-Gil grimaces, but lets Phichit lead him into taking a few steps with him. Seung-Gil can’t tell what Phichit is trying to achieve. It is nothing like Iglesia’s controlled moves, or even the random jumping about he saw JJ doing earlier. Maybe if he just goes along with it for a while Phichit will be willing to leave with him afterwards. 

It seems Phichit have realised that whatever he is attempting isn’t working very well as he stops, looking at Seung-Gil with bleary eyes.  _ Good. _ Seung-Gil thinks.  _ Maybe we can go now _ . He should really just stop thinking so much and speak up as Phichit seems to have figured out his dilemma by the time he is done trying to formulate his words in his head. Phichit is up in Seung-Gil’s personal space before he has the time to think, hooking his arms around Seung-Gil’s neck.

Every alarm goes off in Seung-Gil’s mind, cause  _ what is he doing??  _ His mind feels muddled, as if he has been drinking as well. Maybe it is the flashing lights and the crowd finally starting to get to him. He closes his eyes trying to think straight but it is hard with Phichit clinging to him like an oversized koala bear, breathing hotly against his neck.

“How much did you have to drink?” Seung-Gil finally manages to sputter. They are barely moving anymore, just swaying to a beat that goes way too fast to follow. 

“I’m not drunk I’m fine,” Phichit replies, although Seung-Gil can’t say he believes it with how heavily Phichit is leaning on him to keep his balance.

“Did you know you smell very good? I could stay like this forever.” Phichit sighs into Seung-Gil’s shoulder. They have strayed towards the end of the room where the music isn’t as loud and the people doesn’t bother going. Phichit’s eyes are squinting as they finds Seung-Gil’s. He can feel a lump forming in his throat. It is hard to breathe with him so close. 

“We should head back” he tries, but Phichit just continues to stare at him. Seung-Gil’s face is starting to feel like it is on fire. He barely keeps himself from checking if that is the case. A hand reaches up and brushes against the bruise on his cheek from earlier that day. Seung-Gil winces at the touch, but relaxes after a few seconds, the cold fingers feeling strangely soothing. Their faces are only an inch apart now. Why isn’t he pulling away?

It is tentative at first, but then the lips pushing against his gains more insistence. It feels a bit strange, but not bad. Seung-Gil’s mind feels drunk of the sensation. He is finally able to block out all the noise in the background. They just stays there trading chaste kisses for who knows how long, then Seung-Gil realises what is actually happening and his mind goes into freak out mode again, shoving Phichit away.  _ Shit. _ He stares wide eyed at his friend, not really sure what to do. 

  
Of course, Phichit decides this is the perfect time to just pass out. He doesn’t even fall down. Just sinks to his knees and lays down on the floor with a content smile on his face. Seung-Gil knows it is going to be a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun is filtering lazily through the small window in their room, just touching the windowsill as it crawls its way up from below the horizon. It usually takes a lot more than mere sunlight to rise Seung-Gil from his sleep. Of course, this only applies when he's actually sleeping.

After dragging a half unconscious Phichit home the previous night, he had collapsed on his bed only to suffer through a restless sleep.

Phichit is messily sprawled across his bunk, mouth slightly open with a hint of drool in the corner of it. He's still in yesterday's clothes as Seung-Gil didn't feel like stripping him down after returning last night. Also, he was way too tired and had wanted to escape his headache as fast as possible.

He almost wishes he had an excuse not to get out of bed. Doing so would entail beginning his day, which in turn would mean confronting Phichit about yesterday.  _ Does he remember?  _ Seung-Gil isn't sure if he wants him to. It was probably just an arbitrary idea that seemed completely awesome in his drunk state of mind. It's nothing. It's not like Seung-Gil feels anything about it anyway. He is merely concerned that Phichit might find it embarrassing or something.

Climbing his way to the top has always been his goal. He hasn't got time for fooling around with anyone. And still, he can't deny hanging out with Phichit for the past three weeks has been refreshing. He glances over at the bed where Phichit still isn't making any signs of waking up. It's a nice sight he will miss. The simple innocence about it. He can't have everything no matter how much he'd like it, but he can daydream. There's a reason his theme was greed.

He decides to head down to breakfast without Phichit, assuming he will want to sleep in, at least for as long as he will be allowed to before training. It's the day of the informal competition after all. Instead of waking him, Seung-Gil settles for bringing a plate of various food up to their room. Mostly fruit and a few buns. He makes sure to grab a water bottle as well.

Phichit is groaning, hands blindly searching for his phone when Seung-Gil returns. He looks like he's just been through a wind tunnel. His hair is sticking out everywhere, and his clothes are rumpled from sleeping in them. He rubs his eyes tiredly, sitting up on his bed. Seung-Gil shuffles over to him and shoves a glass of water into his hands.

“You should drink it all, It’ll probably help the headache.”

Phichit nods and downs the glass of water obediently, still without opening his eyes properly. Some of it spills out through the corners of his mouth, leaving wet spots on his t-shirt. He squints at the sharp light, as if it pains him. Seung-Gil takes the glass from him and sets it down on the windowsill.

“How are you feeling?” Seung-Gil asks quietly. Phichit pauses for a moment, as if he needs time to think before the words properly register.

“Not particularly good. I think i need to puke.”

The boy stumbles forward in the general direction of the bathroom, but hits the floor before he has the chance to get there. Seung-Gil quickly retrieves the trash can from the corner of the room, shoving it underneath Phichit’s face just in time to watch the contents of his stomach being ejected.

Seung-Gil grimaces at the sight, and takes the glass from the windowsill to refill it. It all feels strangely natural to him, as if this is a part of their regular routine. Normally, he would have left people to their own devices after getting smashed; it’s not like they couldn’t have avoided it. There is no logical reason as to why he should be helping anyone who out of their own free will decided to drink too much. But here he is. How strange life can be sometimes.

When he gets back, Phichit is sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the trash can. His eyes are closed, making him seem like he’s meditating or something. Seung-Gil hands him some paper towels and sets the glass down to go on a hunt for some painkillers. He isn’t a big fan of them, but he keeps a stash just in case. Phichit grimaces, but swallows the pills with greedy gulps of water.

“We have about an hour before we have to be down on the rink. Think you can manage?” Phichit flops onto his back melodramatically.

“You dragged me out of bed and pretended to be kind only for this? Really, I had expected more from you Seung-Gil.”

“Well I’m not the one who decided to get shitfaced last night. You should have thought about that yesterday. Do you even remember anything? I hope you’re grateful that I was willing to drag you sorry ass home.” Phichit looks away sheepishly.  _ Does he remember? Does he remember does he remember?  _  Seung-Gil tells himself he asked just to make a point, but he needs to know. Did last night mean anything? If it did, what should he do? Does he want it to mean something? He isn’t sure.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I must have made you quite uncomfortable, didn’t I? I know you like to keep your personal space, and I guess it is safe to say i violated that. Feel free to forget everything, I wasn’t thinking straight. Just, please don’t be mad.” Phichit is fidgeting, thumbs in a silent battle with each other while he still refuses to meet Seung-Gil’s eyes.

“It’s fine,” Seung-Gil replies. He swallows the lump in his throat, handing Phichit a bun. “It’s not like it meant anything anyway.”

“No, I guess it didn’t.” Phichit gives a small laugh as he breaks off a piece of his bun. It sounds a bit forced and awkward, two words Seung-Gil would never  have associated with him with earlier. Seems like he isn’t the only one eager to move on from the situation.

* * *

The rink feels cramped as Seung-Gil enters it for the warm ups. He has subconsciously registered that the amount of people in the audience is more than he expected. For a small informal competition like this, it is quite a lot of people.

He sighs, letting himself just glide across the ice for a couple of rounds before starting to do any complicated moves. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Phichit and Iglesia chatting amicably with each others as they do a their laps. Seung-Gil pretends not to be casting glances at them every now and then. Everything is fine. Phichit is not as hungover as he could have been and seems to have sobered up properly when he entered the ice.

Seung-Gil finishes his warm ups without problems and exits the ice without catching up with the others. He needs to clear his head. Something which he knows is a lost cause when he runs into JJ.

Truly, on any other day he might just have been mildly annoyed, but if he has to hear one more word about how great the guy is he think he might hit someone. Naturally, the world decides to grant his wish in the worst way possible.

“So,” JJ clicks his tongue with an annoying smirk, leaning against the wall beside where Seung-Gil is doing his stretches.  “Rumours say you got some action last night?”

Seung-Gil freezes. No one could possibly have been around to see that? Also, everyone was drunk off their asses. There shouldn’t be anyone who could have started to spread any rumours. He forces himself to relax his muscles and pushes himself deeper into the stretch. The burn in his legs is more than welcome.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters. It sounds dumb and cliché, even to him, but he doesn’t feel like explaining anything. Cause what is there to explain?

“Stop lying to yourself. Nothing gets past me, and believe me, I’ve been waiting for this for a  _ looong  _ time.” Seung-Gil stands up straight, his expression a cross between a glare and a confused grimace. JJ just smirks, as if he is in on a big secret.

“Nothing happened last night. Apart from me having to drag Phichit’s drunk ass home. I’m surprised you’re even here today. If I was your girlfriend I’d leave you to fend for yourself.”

“Nice try, but I’m engaged, and our relationship is great. I wouldn’t mind you being my girlfriend otherwise though.” Seung-Gil glares, ready to leave, but JJ blocks his way, apparently not done with bothering him yet.

“That right seems right however, seems to belong to someone else though, am I right?” JJ continues. He is zipping up his jacket as he speaks, easygoing as ever. “I wouldn’t want to come between you and your man.”

“There’s nothing between me and Phichit.”

“I never said I meant Phichit. But he is kinda hot isn't he?”

“If that’s all you wanted to talk about I’m leaving.”

“Have you even seen you two together? The boy has been hanging off you since day one.”

“He hangs off everyone. It’s nothing.”

JJ places his hands on Seung-Gil’s shoulders, expression growing serious. “I don’t know how you are capable of being this oblivious, but if you’re not going to take it from me, just  _ look. _ Next time you see him, just look. Notice how he is around you.”

JJ leaves before Seung-Gil can muster up a response. He stays in the hallway for a while, his brain struggling to comprehend JJ’s words, cause if there is anything he is certain about it is that he does  _ not _ have any feelings for Phichit Chulanont. Does he admire the boy? Yes, he is a great skater, but surely all these confused notions can’t be anything but that.

It doesn’t keep him from following JJ’s advice when he finally manages to regain control of his body and get himself to the rink again. Just looking can’t hurt, right? Phichit lights up the moment he gets to the area where the skaters in his age group is waiting. Seung-Gil frowns, his stomach churning. This isn’t right. It is nothing.

“There you are, we were wondering where you went off to. Leo’s up next.”

“Oh, good for him,” Seung-Gil mumbles. He looks over to where Leo is lacing up his skates, his aura as calm as ever. He has to admit he envies the boy’s ability to appear so in control.

“Are you ready for your turn? I think this is going to be really fun. Bet I can beat you.” Phichit’s tone is playful, yet, Seung-Gil can’t really feel the humour of the situation. He hasn’t been able to win a single thing since his failure at the Grand Prix, so he isn’t really ready to face the fact that even in a small scale competition like this, he might not stand a chance. Both JJ and Phichit were in the Grand Prix Final. His competition is nothing to joke about.

They watch Leo finish his routine in silence, Phichit wincing every time the american is close to falling. It is one of the subtle movements that are always present when Seung-Gil starts to look a bit closer. Phichit is never still. He is always buzzing with energy, flitting from one position to another like a hummingbird. It is a good simile, Seung-Gil decides. Small but graceful.

Seung-Gil can feel his cheeks start to burn again as Phichit catches him in the act of staring, winking teasingly at him before turning around to yell encouraging words at Leo. He closes his eyes, trying to sort through his feelings. He’s just not used to people being this friendly with him. That’s all.

By the time it is his turn to enter the rink, his mind is in complete disarray. It kind of reminds him of his state of mind at the Rostelecom cup, although this time he is unraveling for completely different reasons. The sounds seems to fade into the background as he steps onto the ice. He forces himself to look ahead, not minding the the crowd.

Phichit always told him he should try to use more facial expressions while he skates. It feels forced and unnatural, but he quirks the edges of his lips up into a subtle smile, trying to fulfill a role that he doesn’t feel comfortable with. The technical aspects of his routine are simple. It should be fine.

Except it is not. He cannot focus with all the unanswered questions flooding his mind. It is a mix of condescending inner voices and lame excuses. It is JJ telling him to look closer and his coach trying to make him make friends. It is the word  _ friend _ and the obligations that comes with it. It is Phichit clinging to him in a corner at a party. It is his heart beating so fast it is nearly painful.

Before he knows it, he has already reached the first quad if his program. It turns into a double.  _ What is he doing? _ Without regard to the music, his pace picks up. As if his mind tries to tell him that if he just skates fast enough he can outrun himself.

Of course, it is not quite that simple.

He doesn’t even bother to look at his score as he steps off the ice, knowing it isn’t anything worth fussing over. However, he can't deny that it hurts a bit that he can't even win a small scale event like this. He looks up to see Phichit and Leo hurrying over to him. The Thai skater’s face is painted with worry. Seung-Gil hates the way his heart does a small jump at the sight.

“What happened out there? Your form was perfect at practice yesterday. Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

Seung-Gil shakes his head, stepping away when the two get too close. He needs room to breathe. He needs time to sort out this mess. He doesn’t know what he feels anymore. Everything is so hopelessly muddled and overwhelming. Of course, he doesn’t let any of this show on the outside. His expression is his normal straight face, his voice slightly sharp and dismissing. His best defense.

“Nothing happened,” he deadpans. “Let’s just realize I’m not you Phichit. Maybe your ambitions can be expressed through skating, but mine? All I want is to win and keep winning, and the way to go is to up my technical score. I’ve tried playing your carefree little game, but I’m  _ done _ . I appreciate your help, but this isn’t going to work.”  Seung-Gil winces, regretting his words the moment they’re out of his mouth. He knows full and well that Phichit works  _ hard _ .

He can’t bear looking into those eyes right now, but pushes past him. He’s not quite sure of where he is going. Just away. Anywhere but the rink is acceptable. His eyes start to sting before he’s even made it out of the building. To his surprise, tears start to run down his cheeks, leaving moist trails as the go. He wipes furiously at them and continues his brisk strides.

He isn’t quite sure of where he is going, but ends up in the old town at some point. He can tell from the buildings. They loom above him with tall shadows swallowing him up in the chill evening. They’re nothing compared to the grand buildings in Seoul, but somehow, they seem taller, and less superficial. As if their sturdy brick structures is somehow more intimidating than the modern skyscrapers at home.

There are tourists walking leisurely around, chatting in several different languages. He can recognise the flowing syllables of the french the locals use. Although he cannot understand it, it somehow calms him.

He finds a fountain after a while, and decides to sit down. He realizes that he has left his phone again, and that he doesn’t know where he is at all. Neither do he know the language in order to ask for directions. It is strikingly similar to a different incident, except this time he doesn’t have Phichit to lead him home. His coach will probably be mad. Why is he even out here? He doesn’t like to admit it, but it was all an irrational notion, and now he is stuck like the idiot he is. Feelings really are a drag.

* * *

He somehow managed to find his way back late last night without his coach noticing his absence. Phichit didn’t say anything when he stumbled into their shared room. Maybe he was sleeping, Seung-Gil doesn’t know.

It is the last day of the camp, which is a relief, cause as much as he regret blaming Phichit for his failure, he doesn't have the guts to apologise. He hates it, but every time he thinks he will go up to Phichit and say those damned words his stupid pride gets the better of him. Apart from short necessary dialogue they don’t talk much. Seung-Gil appreciates it, but a part of him is screaming for Phichit to just say something. For him to force Seung-Gil to listen. He would take all the screaming and crying in the world if it just gave him a window to say he’s sorry.

Of course, Phichit doesn’t scream at him, cause Phichit is a decent person who respect him and his choices. It is frustrating.

When they part, it is a bit stiff and tense, but they both remain polite, and Seung-Gil even manages to agree to keep in touch. Not that he plans on acting on it. His self loathing is too strong to ever think of contacting Phichit. The boy deserves better.

His coach doesn’t say anything, but he is certain that she has noticed the shift in their interactions. He is glad she isn’t forcing him to discuss why he managed to lose the one friend he made during the camp.

* * *

When he gets back, he becomes aware of a fact that never really struck him before. It's lonely in Seoul. Not because it is a small place in the slightest, but it feels empty to be back to working alone after being exposed to people for so long.

Of course, he could try to socialise with the other skaters at his home rink, his coach would be ecstatic, but he can't make himself do so. He's not there to make friends, and even though it was an experience, cooperating with others didn't really work all that well for him, so he tells himself he doesn't really mind.

Instead he puts himself into hard technical training, convinced that if he can nail the quad loop, he will stand a good chance next season. His feet are even more sore than usual when he returns to his flat in the evenings, but despite it all he can’t get himself to care about the pain. It’s a price he’s more than willing to pay, blisters and sore feet be damned.

It’s quite obvious that he’s driven himself into an unhealthy state of mind. His rinkmates knows it, sending worried glances his way when they think he’s not looking. His coach knows it, but her attempts at getting him to change are less than half-hearted. He himself knows it.

There is a reason the theme of his last grand prix season was greed. He wants to win it all. To prove that even people like him, that even people of his descent can make it on the worldly stage. That even silent, less outgoing types of people have a place in society. Most of all though, he wants to prove himself. To prove all those who made fun of him in the past that he can be  _ something _ .

It all comes to an abrupt stop when his body can’t take it anymore. The fear of a stress fracture starts costing him sleep when he starts to feel pain in his left foot. An injury like that is something he can’t afford to incur right now. Fortunately, the problem turns out to be muscular rather than something grave.

His coach forces him to slow down and make his training regimen milder after that.

* * *

He decides that his theme for the season will be change.

* * *

_ NHK Trophy 2017 _

Seung-Gil closes his eyes, blocking the cheer of the crowd out, letting himself slip into the depths of his mind. He breathes slowly, visualising his programme in his head. It had three quads, but that’s not what he is putting weight on this time around. He has full confidence that he’ll be able to land them. Instead, he tries to see the story he is narrating. It is different from his usual approach, where the technical aspects are his sole focus. However, for once he actually has something he wants to tell the audience, something he wants to express the only way he can. Something that will get through when his words fail him, and his logical sense becomes muddled. He opens his eyes and steps onto the ice.

_ The story starts with a lone boy, tired and faithless, wandering alone in a deserted city. He shies away from the other people in the barren landscape, and greedily taking all resources to himself. That is until he encounters another person in his territory. Out of fear, he tries to drive the person out, but they somehow outmaneuvers him, and slips onto his premises. _

A quadruple salchow . The audience’s cheers increases in volume. He doesn’t pay them any mind.

_ The boy lets the intruder stay. He expects the person to leave as soon as they get tired of the place, except they don’t, leaving the boy confused. As they grow closer, the intruder starts to teach the boy new values, and slowly, the greedy lonely facade starts to crumble. _

Quadruple loop. Seung-Gil feels his heart skip a beat as he has to touch the ice with his hand to keep himself from falling. He had enough rotations, his base score shouldn’t suffer too much. He forces himself to stop doing the maths on his score.

_ Although he knew the day would be coming, the boy is distressed to see the intruder leave. He falls into a period of darkness again. However, he decides to leave his safe place in the abandoned building. _

Seung-Gil can feel himself begin to tire. His body isn’t moving as fluidly as he wants. He curses himself for having put his last quad in the second half as a triple toe loop almost send him to the ground. He somehow manages to keep himself upright, but it takes his confidence away from the upcoming quad. That’s when he can hear someone shouting his name from the sidelines. The voice almost drowns in the crowd, but he knows he didn’t hear wrong.  _ Phichit _ . Seung-Gil gracefully lands another jump.

_ The boy wanders in unfamiliar landscapes for days, trying to use what the intruder learned him. It is so vast and unfamiliar. Everything is new and scary, but he for some reason, that doesn’t matter anymore. He is no longer the boy who cowered alone in his abandoned building. And at the end of the road, there is another person. _

Quadruple flip.

_ He has found the intruder. _

The cheers of the crowd rouses Seung-Gil out of the imaginary landscape of his mind. He looks around, breathing heavily. His coach is smiling almost imperceptibly where she stands. The judges are whispering quietly to each other. It isn’t the most flawless routine he’s ever skated, but he feels like he did a good job anyway.

His coach hugs him before they proceed to the kiss & cry, Seung-Gil anxiously waiting for the results to show up on the screen. He hugs his jindo plushie tightly, waiting for his heartbeat to slow. He has to check twice to assure himself that the numbers on screen isn’t lying to him. The numbers doesn’t change no matter how many times he blinks.  _ 189.76.  _ His coach doesn’t say anything, but she seems content enough.

Afterwards Seung-Gil finds himself walking aimlessly down the hallways, thinking of how he can improve his program. He really wants to advance this year. He finds a the piece he is skating to and leans back against the wall, closing his eyes. The barren landscape of the abandoned city surrounds him again as he once again immerses himself in his own personal little universe. He is just about to reach the part where his muse comes in when someone rudely disturbs him. He begrudgingly opens his eyes, ready to shoo whoever it is away.

Except, when he opens his eyes, they are met by a set of grey ones, framed by gracefully applied eyeliner and choppy bangs. For no reason, Seung-Gil’s eyes start to fill with tears. He angrily wipes at them, not comfortable with showing this wretched side of himself. A pair of gentle hands stops him, gripping his wrists loosely and guiding them away from his face.

“I’m sorry,” Seung-Gil whispers, trying to get his mind to comprehend that his friend is actually right there. He knew he heard him from the tribune, but after he got off the ice, he had more or less chalked it up to his imagination.

“What are you apologising for? Hey, don’t cry. You did great,” Phichit mumbles. Seung-Gil feels a pair of arms wrap around him, pulling him into a hug. Seung-Gil clutches the shorter boy. He hand feel his hands shaking.

“What are you doing here? You’re not skating in this event?” he finally asks. They break the hug, Phichit smiling softly.

“I was already here to see Yuuri, so I figured I’d go.” He shrugs as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. Of course he’s here for Katsuki. “And I didn’t want to miss out on seeing you again. Honestly, I thought we were going to keep in touch.”

“I’m sorry,” Seung-Gil mutters again. All the glorified justifications for not calling washes away. It all seems a bit dumb now that he looks back at it. He should have stopped wasting time long ago. He still is in fact, and it needs to stop.

Almost hesitantly, he reaches out, fingers lightly touching Phichit’s face. The other boy smiles gently, doesn’t shy away. It fuels Seung-Gil’s confidence a little more. He feels so out of depth, yet, he knows he needs to drop his stoic facade if he is to stop hurting himself over this. He lets his fingers map out the topography of Phichit’s face. Everything from the small crinkles at the outer corners of his eyes to that bright smile.  
It doesn’t go any further than that. He doesn’t know if he can yet. However, he feels like they have reached an understanding that wasn’t there before. He lets his hands drop. His fingers are coaxed into the grip of another pair of hands. Soft, yet strong and nice to hold. It makes him feel lighter, and if there is one thing he is certain about, it is that he has grown oddly dependent on Phichit Chulanont. He doesn’t mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who has read this far! I had a lot of fun writing this one. I might write a short epilogue for this soon depending on how much time I have, but for now this is it.
> 
> Fell free to come say hi to me on tumblr (:
> 
>  
> 
> [Sheepouttetradecagon.tumblr.com](https://sheepouttetradecagon.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Edit: thank you to the person who pointed out the axel, I didn't really mean to put it in there. (It is fixed now) I'm by no means a figure skater so I appreciate people calling me out on it when I'm wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> [SheepOutTetradecagon.tumblr.com](https://sheepouttetradecagon.tumblr.com/)


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